


Books are Required

by Krasimer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Books, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:39:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam run errands for Bobby Singer, landing them in England to meet with the rare book dealer Bobby has in his contacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books are Required

"Alright, so now we're in friggen' England." Dean scowled at his little brother, forced into the passenger seat in what he was calling the 'ass backwards car'.

"Bobby sent us here for a reason, Dean. There's a book of prophecies and sigils that he wants." Sam sighed, maneuvering the hybrid car, almost the opposite of the Impala, through the traffic. "And you know that he's a little..." 

He waved his hand vaguely, Dean's scowl growing deeper. "Yeah, I know. The whole wheelchair thing." he ran a hand down his face, eyes closing tightly. "Wake me when we get there."

Rolling his eyes, Sam turned the car out of the main traffic, onto a smaller road. A few minutes passed, with just the sounds of Dean's soft snores filling the vehicle. A store front loomed in front of him, labeled 'Fell's books."

Without waking Dean up, he popped open the door and curled himself out of the car, stretching his arms. Looking in through the front window, he frowned. It was dark, and as far as he could tell, there was no one inside.

Sam went back to the car, jabbing Dean in the shoulder until he finally woke up.

"Doesn't look like there's anyone here."

Dean glared at him, frowning. "You're telling me that we came all the way to England, by PLANE, then got into the little backwards car and drove for a friggen' hour, just to be stopped by a store being closed?"

"Um...Excuse me?"

Both of them turned to look at who had spoken, Dean's hand on his holster inside his over shirt. Sam smacked his hand, shaking his head.

In front of them stood a man with blonde curly hair. His eyes wide behind his thin rimmed glasses, he watched the two brothers interact. "Would you happen to be the Winchesters?" 

"Yes." Sam scowled at Dean. "We're here to pick up a book for Bobby Singer. He can't really make the trip right now, so my brother and I had to."

"Ah. I do hope he gets better soon." the man smiled jovially, all round cheeks and bright eyes. "I am Mister Azra Fell. This-" he gestured to the tall and slender man standing at his shoulder. "-is a friend of mine. Mister A.J Crowley."

The man nodded at them, then turned to the shop. "You're actually selling one of your books, Angel?"

"It's not selling. Mister Singer borrows them, and when I want them back or need them back, he allows me to reclaim them. He takes fabulous care of them as well, so I do not have to worry about a first edition becoming ruined in his hands." Fell looked at the Winchesters and smiled. "He is a good man. Shall we head in so you can be on your way?"

Dean watched as his brother followed the two men into the store. "He friggen' heard me, didn't he?" he muttered.

 

Inside the shop, it was all Sam could do not to drool.

Surrounding him, on every surface and in every shelf, there were books. He could barely see out the windows for how high the books were stored and shelved. All of them were beautiful, a lot of them were old. 

"I don't think I've seen a collection like this before." he whispered, almost reverent as he looked around, hands hovering a few inches off the spines of the books as he looked around. "No wonder Bobby recommends you heavily when he needs to find a rare book to help u-" he broke off, then cleared his throat. "We study theology. And urban legends. And myths..."

The taller of the two, A.J was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. At least, he assumed he was being looked at, the sunglasses perched on the man's nose threw him off a little bit. "College students then? I assumed as much about you, but your brother looks a little too old for college."

"He dropped out of highschool." Sam shrugged. "With Bobby as a specialized teacher who is willing to tutor him individually, he  
has a chance at a college degree."

It felt weirdly bad to lie to Mister Fell, but he shoved it away. There was a certain amount of lying that had to be done to keep the world at large unaware of what they did with their lives.

Mister Fell smiled. "Well, I'm glad that he is willing to seek a higher level of education. I would think that someone who dropped out of the lower levels would be not likely to."

Just then, Dean walked in, over shirt in his hands, balled up like he was trying to keep it from spilling something. "Friggen' mud puddles..." he glared out the window.

"What happened? How did something happen to you in the three minutes you were alone out there?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. "A car drove by and splashed me with mud. My shirt is friggen' coated in it, and it was getting cold."

"You can set it here." Mister Fell pointed at the check out counter, "Better to give it a chance to dry, I think."

"Thanks." Dean smiled slightly, stretching his shirt out on the counter. As he did so, the edge of his tee shirt sleeve rode up a bit, exposing the mark on his shoulder. A.J looked at him, eyebrows lowered, lips curled into a frown.

"Angel."

Mister Fell looked at him, pausing in the middle of his sentence. He was talking to Sam about the books in his shop, and he frowned at A.J. "Yes?"

"Look at the Elder Winchester's shoulder. His left one. You should recognize something."

Looking at Dean, Fell walked across the room and lifted his shirt sleeve completely, frowning when he saw the hand print. "This is..."

He took a step back. "Alright, who are you two really? The Winchester part is true enough, but the college student part is not."

"Yeah it is." Dean looked at Sam, shrugging. "We are what we say we are."

"Then tell me why you have the mark of an Angel on your shoulder." Fell looked between the two brothers, then at A.J. "And you had better explain quickly."

Sam turned to look at A.J, eyes widening when he saw the man looming protectively.

"I was in Hell." Dean muttered, fixing his gaze on the floor. "I got pulled out of Hell by an Angel, name of Castiel."

"Dean!"

Dean's eyes widened as he made a gesture with his hands. "What? I can't lie to him, I don't friggen' know why."

"You know Castiel?" Fell's face lightened, a smile taking the place of the frown. "How is he doing?"

"Kind of seems like we're not the only ones keeping a secret here." Sam looked at the two men, then licked his lip. "Why do you know Castiel?"

"My name is Aziraphale." the blonde man's smile grew into a grin as he laughed. "Castiel is my brother. Younger than me and from a different grouping, but he is still family."

"Who is he, then?" Sam gestured at A.J. "Seems like you're familiar with him, comfortable enough to say who you really are in front of him."

"I am who I said I was." A.J rolled his eyes, "Anthony J. Crowley."

"The only Crowley we know of is a Demon. King of the Crossroads." Dean frowned, "You don't seem to recognize us, unless of course you are him and are really good at acting."

"So that's how he has done with my name."

Sam blinked slowly. "What?"

Crowley sighed, then shrugged and rolled his shoulders. "I allowed him to use my name, he asked for it because he couldn't survive with his own." He stepped closer to Aziraphale and wrapped a protective arm around his waist. "Demons aren't always the assholes you thought them to be."

"You're a Demon?"

"Sort of." 

Aziraphale sighed and lay his hand over Crowley's where it rested on his hip. "He's an Angel, just a Fallen one."

"I sauntered."

"What, vaguely downwards?"

"Yes, Angel." 

Before Aziraphale could respond in any way, Crowley kissed him softly, his other hand resting in the mess of blonde curls on his head. 

Sam watched with wide eyes, and Dean blinked rapidly. "So when you say friend..." Sam began, looking between the two. "How long have you two been...?"

"Decades." Crowley smirked as Dean flushed red. "On and off since the sixties. Cemented and complete since nineteen ninety-two. One year after the Apocalypse that we averted."

"We did have help." Aziraphale grumped, nuzzling Crowley's jaw. "The Anti-Christ."

"True."

"Wait wait wait..." Dean held up both his hands, "Jesse wasn't born yet. Or if he was, he was tiny and a baby."

"Jesse?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "I'm speaking about Adam."

Sam leaned forward, his back resting against the counter. "What?"

"The Anti-Christ is named Adam." Crowley frowned, then met Aziraphale's eyes. "Is there more than one?"

"I would assume so. How did you two meet Jesse?"

"There was a circle of things going on, really strange things." Sam shrugged, "Like joy buzzers actually killing someone. Itch powder actually working. A girl scratched through her own scalp. Dean..." he shuddered.

"Turns out the kid thought that something really did lead to blindness and hairy palms." Dean filled in, grimacing as he remembered what had happened, looking anywhere but at the other men in the room.

Aziraphale's nose wrinkled. "Ew."

"Yeah."

 

It was nearing nightfall when they finally left Aziraphale's shop, the book they had come for in Sam's hands, as well as a couple others that he had thought might be useful to them.

Dean turned to Sam, a frown on his face. "That was weird."  
X

**Author's Note:**

> More stuff from the files. I liked it enough to post it.


End file.
